yn 

5841 

J»7 

L2 

1883 


spoo/V\  Y '1  ‘Asy 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/lampofsanctuarytOOwise 


THE  LAMP 


OF 

THE  SANCTUARY. 

A TALE. 


BY  HIS  EMINENCE 

CARDINAL  WISEMAN.  *7 


* 


NEW  YORK,  CINCINNATI,  CHICAGO  : 

BENZIGER  BROTHERS, 

Printers  to.  the  Holy  Apostolic  See , 


SS4| 

. UJ'] 

I ?S '3 


/iV  THE  SAME  SERIES. 

My  Strange  Friend,  - By  Rev-  F0  J.  Finn,  S.J. 
The  Boys  in  the  Block,  - By  M.  F.  Egan. 
The  Fatal  Diamonds,  - By  E.  C.  Donnelly. 


CONTENTS. 

Its  Brightness  . . 

CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

Its  Darkening.. 

CHAPTER  II. 

21 

Its  Extinction  . . 

CHAPTER  III. 

46 

CHAPTER  IY. 

Its  Rekindling. 


65 


THE 


LAMP  OF  THE  SANCTUARY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ITS  BRIGHTNESS. 

“ Who  will  grant  me  that  I might  be  accord- 
ing to  the  days  in  which  God  kept  me , when 
His  lamp  shined  over  my  head  Job  xxix. 
2,  3. 

In  the  recesses  of  the  Pyrenees,  not 
far  from  the  Spanish  border,  there  was 
(our  tale  is  of  the  last  century)  a small 
rural  chapel  situated  on  a hill  known  by 
the  name  of  Mont-Marie.  The  chapel 
itself  was  simple  and  unpretending,  sol- 
idly built,  and  of  considerable  antiquity. 
The  inside  was,  however,  richly  adorned. 
The  altar  had  silver  furniture,  and  the 
walls  round  it  were  covered  with  votive 
5 


6 


The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

tablets  and  with  silver  donatives  hung 
in  commemoration  of  favors  piously 
believed  to  have  been  received  through 
the  intercession  of  the  blessed  Mother 
of  God,  to  whom  the  chapel  was  dedi- 
cated. Indeed  it  was  celebrated  through 
the  neighboring  country  for  miles  round 
as  a place  of  great  devotion,  almost  a 
pilgrimage.  Over,  but  behind  the  al- 
tar, on  which  was  a rich  tabernacle, 
stood,  an  image  of  the  spotless  Virgin, 
bearing  in  her  arms  her  divine  Son.  It 
was  nearly  as  large  as  life,  of  white  mar- 
ble and  of  ancient  workmanship.  Every 
one  who  looked  at  it  with  a favorable 
light  pronounced  it  a matchless  piece 
of  art,  a work  of  highest  inspiration. 
Nothing  could  be  more  benign,  more 
sweet,  than  the  expression  of  the  Mother ; 
nothing  more  winning  yet  more  majestic, 
than  the  countenance  of  the  Child. 

In  the  midst  of  the  sanctuary,  before 
the  altar,  was  hung  a silver  lamp,  as  is 
usual  in  Catholic  churches  and  orato- 
ries, burning  day  and  night.  Never,  on 
the  most  tempestuous  night,  was  it 


Its  Brightness. 


7 


known  to  be  extinguished ; for  it  was 
abundantly  supplied,  by  the  piety  of  the 
people,  with  the  purest  oil  from  the  ol- 
ive-yards of  the  country.  And  this  to 
many  of  them  was  a matter  of  great  im- 
portance ; for  that  lamp  was  a beacon 
and  a sure  guide  to  the  traveller  at 
night.  It  was,  therefore,  so  hung  that 
its  bright  radiance  shone  through  a 
round  window  over  the  door,  and  could 
be  seen  to  a great  distance.  The  path 
which  led  from  several  hamlets  to  the 
main-road  in  the  valley,  passed  near  this 
chapel.  It  was  a narrow,  rugged  track 
along  the  mountain’s  side,  skirting  a 
precipice  ; and  the  directions  given  to 
the  traveller  were  to  go  boldly  for- 
ward so  long  as  the  light  of  the  chapel 
was  visible  before  him,  but  so  soon  as  it 
disappeared  by  a jutting  of  the  rock,  to 
turn  sharp  to  the  right  and  fearlessly 
descend,  as  the  precipice  was  now  ex- 
changed for  a gentle  slope  that  led  to 
the  wider  road.  So  certain  was  this  rule, 
tWt  no  accident  was  remembered  to  have 
ever  n-appened  along  that  path.  Thus 


8 


The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

did  a beautiful  symbolical  rite  of  wor- 
ship lend  itself  to  a most  beneficial  pur- 
pose, and  become  the  cause  of  great  so- 
cial good  ; thus  did  the  altar  of  God 
send  abroad  its  cheerful  brightness  to 
light  up  the  dark  and  wearisome  path 
(alas  ! how  like  that  of  life  !)  and  thus 
were  the  solitary  traveller’s  thoughts  at- 
tracted to  the  sphere  where  his  guiding- 
star  burned  clear  before  the  mercy-throne 
of  the  Lamb,  there  to  offer,  in  spirit, 
homage  ; or  led  to  think  on  that  wake- 
ful eye  of  Providence  which  darts  its  ray 
from  a higher  sanctuary  upon  our  joy- 
less way,  to  cheer  and  guide  us  thither. 

The  chapel  was  under  the  care  of  a 
hermit  priest,  who  lived  in  an  humble 
dwelling  beside  it,  and  ministered  to  the 
spiritual  wants  of  the  neighborhood,  as 
the  parish  church  was  at  some  distance. 

On  the  road  which  we  have  described, 
and  about  two  miles  from  the  chapel, 
was  a poor,  small  mountain  hamlet,  in- 
habited chiefly  by  woodmen  who  worked 
in  the  forests  around.  Among  the  cot- 
tages which  composed  it,  one  was  re- 


Its  Brightness . 


• 9 


markable  for  its  neatness,  though  as  poor 
as  the  rest ; and  the  young  couple  that 
occupied  it  were  no  less  distinguished 
than  the  most  industrious,  the  most  vir- 
tuous, and  the  happiest  in  the  place. 
While  Pierrot  was  sturdily  working 
among  the  hills,  his  wife  Annette  was 
sitting  at  her  wheel  spinning  incessantly, 
unless  busied  with  domestic  cares  ; while  * 
at  her  feet  srft  their  only  child,  not  yet 
three  years  old,  but  already  giving  to- 
kens of  great  sense  and  virtue.  Like 
every  other  child  born  under  the  tutelage 
of  that  chapel,  she  had  been  called  at 
baptism,  Marie.  The  child  was  the  de- 
light of  her  parents,  for  with  great  liveli- 
ness of  disposition  and  cheerfulness  she 
united  sweetness  of  temper  and  gentle- 
ness of  mind.  It  may  be  easily  imag- 
ined how  they  watched  her  every  look 
with  the  anxiety  of  fond  affection. 

It  was  with  dismay,  therefore,  that 
about  this  time  each  parent  observed  a 
notable  falling  off  in  her  good  looks  and 
in  her  spirits.  For  some  days,  neither 
durst  speak  on  the  subject  to  the  other; 


10  Tlic  Lamp  of  tlie  Sanctuary . 

but  at  last  it  became  manifestly  neces- 
sary to  call  in  medical  advice,  for  the 
child  was  growing  every  day  paler  and 
thinner,  and  was  losing  strength.  But 
every  effort  of  human  skill  proved  vain, 
and  the  physician  declared  that  nothing 
short  of  a miracle  could  save  the  child. 
The  parents  were  disconsolate,  and 
seemed  distracted  with  their  grief  ; till, 
finding  no  comfort  on  earth,  they  turned 
their  thoughts  more  fervently  to  Heaven, 
where,  however,  they  had  all  along 
sought  help. 

It  was  a fine  autumn  evening  when 
the  heart-broken  parents  were  seen 
slowly  walking  along  the  narrow  path 
we  have  described,  evidently  directing 
their  steps  towards  Mont-Marie.  The 
mother  bore  a precious  burden  in  her 
arms,  lighter  indeed  than  the  one  she 
carried  in  her  heart.  It  was  her  frail 
and  sickly  child,  carefully  wrapped  up, 
though  the  afternoon  was  warm. 

When  they  reached  the  ^ it  was 
still  day,  and  many  of  the  peasant 
were  there  making  their  evening  visit  as 


Its  Brightness.  li 

they  returned  from  work.  The  door 
was  open,  and  the  western  sun  streamed 
in  full  glory  through  it,  and  steeped  the 
interior  of  the  place  with  a golden  lus- 
tre, giving  to  the  paintings  and  hang- 
ings and  the  bright  ornaments  of  the 
altar  a richness  and  magnificence  truly 
royal.  It  seemed  as  if  it  was  the  hour 
of  majesty,  the  time  for  urging  great  and 
noble  suits  at  the  throne  of  Power  ; the 
presence-chamber  of  the  King  of  kings 
seemed  gorgeously  amtyed  to  hear  the 
song  of  the  joyful  heart,  and  to  dispense 
the  treasures  of  redundant  blessings. 
And  each  and  every  one  of  those  peas- 
ants, kneeling  in  scattered  groups  in 
fervent  worship,  scarcely  able  to  bear 
the  dazzling  sparks  of  light  which  the 
sunbeams  struck  from  the  silver  taber- 
nacle, was  in  that  moment  ennobled  and 
graced  beyond  the  richest  and  proudest 
of  earth’s  lords.  Their  rustic  costume 
was  embroidered  by  the  golden  pencil  of 
Heaven,  their  honest  heads  surrounded, 
and  in  a manner  crowned,  by  a flood  of 
glory,  and  their  countenances  upturned 


12  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

with  glowing  features  and  moistened 
eyes  towards  that  Presence  before  which 
all  earthly  royalty  is  base.  And  now 
the  organ  pealed  forth  its  powerful  notes, 
and  all  united  in  a simple  but  over- 
powering strain  of  evening  thanksgiv- 
ing. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Pierrot 
and  his  wife  reached  the  threshold  of 
the  door;  and  both  instinctively  paused 
as  if  unable  to  enter  in.  That  sparkling 
light,  that  golden  atmosphere,  those  joy- 
ful looks,  those  swelling  notes,  accorded 
not  with  their  errand,  sympathized  not 
with  their  hearts,  jarred,  broken,  fretted 
as  they  were.  They  were  not  coming  to 
urge  high  and  peculiar  claims,  but  to 
seek  pity,  mercy,  and  peace.  In  a mo- 
ment, however,  they  both  felt  confused 
at  their  apparent  want  of  confidence, 
and,  assuming  boldly  the  privilege  ever 
granted  by  Catholic  feeling  to  the  dis- 
tressed, advanced  to  the  steps  leading  to 
the  sanctuary.  On  these  the  mother 
laid  her  helpless  burden ; and  both, 
kneeling  down,  covered  their  streaming 


Its  Brightness. 


13 


eyes  from  the  overpowering,  though 
fading,  splendor  that  oppressed  them. 
Long,  deep,  and  breathless  was  their 
prayer.  During  it  the  music  had  ceased, 
the  peasants  had  one  by  one  glided  out, 
and  the  hermit,  having  closed  the  door, 
and  with  it  shut  out  the  last  dying  re- 
flection of  the  western  sky,  whispered 
to  the  afflicted  father  as  he  retired,  “ I 
have  left  the  door  unlocked,  stay  as  long 
as  you  please.  Have  courage,  and  may 
God  comfort  you,  and,  through  the  in- 
tercession of  His  blessed  Mother,  hear 
your  prayers.”  He  was  not  like  Heli, 
that  good  hermit  who  chid  Anna  in  the 
Temple  because  of  her  troubled  supplica- 
tion. 

At  these  words,  both  uncovered  their 
faces  and  raised  their  eyes.  They  were 
alone  with  their  child  : a perfect  silence 
reigned  around  them.  There  was  no 
light  but  what  was  shed  by  the  lamp  of 
the  sanctuary  between  them  and  the 
altar.  Hanging  in  mid-air,  this  seemed 
as  a silver  fountain  of  mildest  radiance, 
not  shot  forth  in  rays,  not  scattered 


14  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

abroad  in  fiery  sparks,  not  playing  wan- 
tonly in  unsteady  flame,  but  softly  and 
equably  diffused  from  its  source  on  every 
side,  filling  the  centre  of  the  holy  place 
with  a halo  of  serenest,  purest  light,  and 
thence  overflowing  in  a more  subdued 
and  blander  stream  into  the  remoter  part 
and  angles  of  the  roof  and  walls.  It 
was  a light  that  appeared  to  exert  a still- 
ing, hushing  power  on  nature ; one 
could  not  conceive  noise  or  disturbance 
going  on  under  it ; a laugh,  a harsh  word, 
an  angry  murmur  would  have  sounded 
sacrilegious,  if  they  could  have  been 
possibly  attempted.  It  created  an  at- 
mosphere of  its  own  ; as  though  that 
soft  attempered  light  diffused  a corre- 
sponding warmth  through  the  air,  which 
the  frost  without  could  not  chill;  for  no 
one  could  feel  cold  beneath  its  genial 
glow.  It  gave  a softness  and  beauty  to 
the  commonest  objects ; the  rude  me- 
morials of  benefits  received  that  hung 
around,  and  the  poor  paintings  which 
adorned  the  upper  parts  of  the  walls,  had 
their  imperfect  details  concealed,  and 


15  N 


Its  Brightness . 

their  more  prominent  features  brought 
out  in  a subdued  tone,  that  made  them 
look  like  masterpieces  of  art ; and  coun- 
tenances which  by  day  looked  stern,  by 
this  mild  light  were  gentle  and  engag- 
ing. But  it  was  on  the  inward  feelings 
that  its  kindliest  influence  was  shed.  It 
seemed  to  kindle  in  the  breast  a holy 
light  like  unto  itself,  beaming  serene 
and  soothing  over  its  disturbed  affec- 
tions, subduing  pride  and  loftiness  of 
spirit,  calming  anger,  engentling  aus- 
terity, and  smoothing  the  folds  of  the 
crafty  thought.  It  unruffled,  it  mild- 
ened,  it  melted  the  soul,  and  fitted  it  for 
tender  and  gentle  emotions. 

And  when,  thus  feeling  all  without 
them  in  perfect  harmony  with  their 
own  thoughts,  the  unhappy  parents 
raised  their  eyes  towards  the  image  of 
their  Redeemer  and  His  Mother,  the 
full  radiance  of  that  lamp  upon  it  re- 
vealed features  so  full  of  love  and  com- 
passion, that  never  did  this  representa- 
tion of  them  appear  so  lovely  or  so 
truly  a portrait  of  what  in  their  hearts 


16  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

they  now  wished  to  find  them  both. 
For  they  felt  that  this  was  the  hour  for 
appeals  for  mercy  and  pity  on  distress  ; 
here  was  the  inner  audience-chamber, 
where  the  petition  of  the  poor  would  be 
kindly  received  face  to  face,  whispered 
into  the  ear. 

Long  and  fervently  did  the  parents 
pray  over  their  child  under  the  sol- 
emn inspiration  of  the  place  and  hour. 
There  was  more  of  depth  in  the  fa- 
ther’s fervor,  more  of  tenderness  in  the 
mother’s  ; but  both  made  together  a joint 
petition,  they  offered  up  a common  vow. 
If  the  child  recovered,  she  was  for  the 
next  seven  years  to  be  clothed  in  white, 
as  an  emblem  of  dedication  to  the 
purest  of  maids,  brought  up  ever  in 
piety  and  devotion ; and  her  parents 
would  fast  once  a week.during  the  same 
period. 

“ Yes,”  exclaimed  Pierrot,  in  the 
simple  poetry  of  nature,  “ she  shall  be 
white  and  pure  as  the  lily,  whose  root 
has  been  fed  by  the  mountain  snow  ; she 
shall  be  as  a flower  before  the  altar  of 


Its  Brightness. 


17 


God.  She  shall  shine  in  His  sanctuary 
as  the  lamp  that  now  hangs  over  her ; 
her  virtues  shall  shed  a mild  lustre 
through  the  holy  place,  as  she  kneels  in 
conscious  gratitude,  where  now  she  lies. 
Extinguish  not  the  light  of  our  eyes  ! 
and  let  not  death  presume  to  touch  her 
now  consecrated  to  Thee,  any  more  than 
a sacrilegious  hand  will  ever  dare  to 
quench  this  holy  flame  that  burns  before 
Thine  altar ! ” 

While  the  parents  were  engaged  in 
prayer,  their  child  seemed  to  be  enjoy- 
ing a slumber  calmer  and  healthier  than 
she  had  done  for  several  weeks  ; and  in 
this  they  saw  the  first  symptom  of  re- 
covery. It  was  late  when  they  returned 
home,  but  the  child  still  slept ; and  next 
morning  she  was  evidently  better.  In  a 
few  more  days  she  was  at  her  usual  place 
by  her  mother’s  knee.  She  was  now, 
what  is  called  in  France,  vouee  ciublanc, 
clothed  entirely,  according  to  vow,  in 
virgin  white.  And  as  she  grew  from 
day  to  day  in  sense  and  virtue,  so  was 
she  looked  upon  by  all  the  good  people 
2 


18  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

in  the  neighborhood  as  one  dedicated  to 
God  and  privileged  by  grace.  Hence, 
by  common  accord,  the  place  of  honor 
seemed  granted  to  her  in  church,  the 
spot  in  the  centre  on  which  she  had 
been  laid  in  her  sickness. 

There,  as  she  grew  older,  she  would 
kneel  immovable  for  hours,  and  when  at 
dusk  the  crowds  of  peasants  who  filled 
the  oratory,  in  the  dark  costume  of  the 
country,  formed  a confused  mass,  her 
form,  arrayed  in  dazzling  white,  in  the 
full  radiance  of  the  mystic  lamp,  shone 
bright  and  clear  as  if  fulfilling  her  fa- 
ther’s prayer,  and  seemed  itself  to  shed 
a light  upon  the  darker  objects  around. 
In  the  silent  meditation  and  fervent 
prayer  in  the  soft  glow  of  that  sacred 
lamp,  her  heart,  too,  found  delight.  The 
glories  of  the  evening  sun,  the  clear 
splendor  of  the  summer  noon,  had  no 
charms  for  her,  like  to  its  mildened  ray. 
It  seemed  to  her  to  shed  around  a light 
so  chaste  and  pure  as  could  brook 
thoughts  none  but  the  holiest  and  most 
angelic  ; nor  could  words,  save  the  most 


Its  Brightness . 19 

warm  and  tender,  bear  to  be  breathec5 
therein.  Heavenly  spirits  seemed  to 
bask  in  it,  and  cherubs  were  playing  on 
the  cloud  of  glory  that  hung  around  the 
flame.  Nor  was  it  to  her  eyes  alone 
that  this  mysterious  andsymbolical  light 
appeared  so  beautiful.  With  it  there 
seemed  to  come  music  to  her  ears,  voices 
whispering  prayer  in  accordance  with 
hers,  songs  subdued  and  tender,  as  of 
spirits  striking  softly  upon  golden  harps. 

And  it  seemed  to  scatter  ever  the 
sweetest  fragrance,  a balm,  an  incense 
pure  from  every  gross  and  earthly  par- 
ticle. In  short,  noplace  to  her  appeared 
more  closely  allied  to  Heaven,  and  no 
situation  raised  her  on  wings  of  holy  de- 
sire so  gently  from  earth,  as  did  that 
lonely  sanctuary,  enjoyed  in  the  light  of 
its  own  dear  star. 

It  has  been  observed  that  persons  liv- 
ing much  together  come  to  contract 
a certain  resemblance  to  one  another, 
so  as  to  be  often  taken  for  near  rela- 
tions; and  so  did  many  think  that  by 
frequent  and  long  kneeling  before  that 


20  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

beautiful  image  of  the  spotless  Vir- 
gin Mother,  with  gaze  intent  upon  it  in 
that  mild  light,  her  features  gradually 
moulded  themselves  into  the  same  meek 
and  modest  expression,  as  though  she 
were  the  living,  as  that  was  the  lifeless, 
portrait  of  the  same  original. 


CHAPTER  II. 


ITS  DARKENING. 

“ May  the  counsel  of  the  wicked  he  far  from 
me.  How  often  shall  the  lamp  of  the  wicked 
he  put  out , and  a deluge  come  upon  them , 
and  He  shall  distribute  the  sorrows  of  His 
wrath." — Job  xxi.  17. 

Nearly  six  years  had  now  passed 
over  since  the  vow  was  spoken  ; and  they 
had  been  years  all  of  joy  and  happiness : 
when  a change  came  over  the  house- 
hold of  Pierrot,  which  blighted  it  sadly, 
and  brought  with  it  sorrow  and  woe. 

A little  before  this  time,  two  strange 
men  came  with  their  families  to  settle 
in  the  neighborhood.  They  were  a 
rough  set,  and  no  one  knew  anything 
about  them. 

They  took  a piece  of  land  at  some 
distance  from  any  other  dwelling  and 
built  themselves  large  huts  of  timber, 
21 


22  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

much  like  those  of  others  ; but  while 
they  were  working  at  them,  they  seemed 
jealous  of  any  one’s  coming  to  look  at 
them  : and  when  they  were  finished  they 
never  invited  any  one  inside.  The  men 
did  not  seem  to  have  any  particular  oc- 
cupation, and  the  women  were  idle  and 
slovenly  ; yet  they  always  seemed  to  be 
better  off  than  their  neighbors,  and  on 
Sundays  made  a very  dashing  appear- 
ance. Nobody  knew  what  to  make  of 
them,  but  it  was  clear  there  was  some 
mystery  about  them. 

A few  months  after  they  had  settled 
there  a sensible  alteration  in  the  char- 
acter of  Pierrot  was  observable  by  his 
wife  and  daughter.  He  went  to  his 
work  with  less  cheerfulness,  and  got 
apparently  through  much  less  of  it,  for 
his  earnings  clearly  fell  off.  He  was 
thoughtful  and  reserved,  almost  moody, 
and  for  the  first  time  had  evidently  a 
painful  secret  which  he  concealed  from 
his  family.  Instead  of  returning  home  as 
soon  as  his  work  was  done  to  enjoy  their 
society,  they  would  have  to  wait  for  him 


Its  Darkening . 


23 


some  hours  in  silent  grief  ; and  when  he 
did  come  in  he  was  cold  and  silent,  and 
made  some  poor  excuse  for  his  lateness. 
At  length  one  day  when  he  went  to 
work,  he  said  to  his  wife  : “ Annette,  I 
shall  probably  not  return  till  very  late 
to-night — so  don’t  sit  up  for  me.  I have 
important  business  which  may  even  de- 
tain me  all  night.”  He  gave  no  time 
for  any  remonstrance,  but  hurried  forth. 
Oh,  what  a sorrowful  day  was  that  for 
mother  and  daughter ! they  scarcely 
spoke  all  day,  and  each  tried  to  hide  her 
tears  from  the  other;  for  the  child,  though 
only  eight  years  of  age,  had  sense  enough 
to  knov/  that  things  were  going  fearfully 
wrong.  Towards  evening,  therefore, 
both,  guided  by  the  same  impulse,  took 
the  road  to  Mont-Marie,  to  pour  forth 
their  grief  and  seek  consolation  at  the 
foot  of  the  altar.  There  Marie  knelt 
in  her  usual  place  behind  the  lamp  ; she 
raised  her  eyes  and  her  heart,  and  was 
soon  absorbed  in  meditation.  And  her 
meditation  was  this : 

She  thought  of  the  desolate  home  which 


24 


The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

awaited  the  blessed  Mother  of  Our  Lord 
as  she  descended  from  Calvary — the  joy- 
less board,  the  cheerless  chamber,  the 
restless  couch,  prepared  for  her  after  a 
day  of  anguish  and  of  blight.  There, 
comparing  sorrow  with  sorrow,  how  tri- 
fling appeared  her  own  afflictions  beside 
hers  ! There,  eyes  that  fall  on  garments 
sprinkled  from  the  wine-press,  trodden 
that  day,  of  God’s  justice  ; there,  ears 
that  yet  ring  with  the  clang  of  the  ham- 
mer, forcing  nails  through  the  quiver- 
ing flesh  ; there,  a heart  pierced  through 
with  a sword  of  grief,  planting  to  its  core 
with  the  keenest  of  material  sorrows  ; 
there,  body  and  soul  staggering  under 
a weight  of  anguish  that  would  have 
crushed  a frame  of  iron  and  a mind  of 
adamant,  but  can  be  borne  up  by  her  un- 
resisting patience.  And  in  the  thought 
of  such  an  ocean  of  sorrows,  how  small 
a drop  did  those  appear  to  that  child  of 
grace,  which  the  heavenly  Father  had 
allotted  her  ! And  now,  after  each  kind 
friend  that  has  accompanied  this  sover- 
eign Lady  to  her  humble  abode  has  de- 


Its  Darkening. 


25 


parted,  she  sees  her  left  at  last  alone  in 
the  silence  of  the  night,  with  the  lamp 
(fed  perhaps  from  the  Garden  of  Geth- 
semani)  beaming  upon  her  pale  coun- 
tenance, on  which  that  day  has  written 
more  of  woe  than  years  had  traced  be- 
fore, glittering  in  tear  after  tear,  as  it 
trickles  from  her  dim  celestial  eyes, 
watching  alone  beside  her,  sole  thing 
that  cheers  and  sheds  a ray  of  comfort 
through  the  dreary  chamber  and  the 
drearier  heart.  And,  in  her  childish 
thoughts,  she  blessed  that  pale  and 
trembling  light  which  then  gave  Mary 
comfort,  and  felt  as  though  the  little 
flame  above  her,  shining  now  upon  her 
and  upon  the  sacred  representation  of 
that  Queen  of  sorrows  before  her,  were 
the  faithful  representative  and  descend- 
ant of  that  which  then  lighted  up  and 
cheered  her  sanctuary  and  home.  Its 
calm  twilight  thus  exercised  its  sooth- 
ing influence  on  the  innocent  child’s 
spirit,  and  associated  her  afflictions  with 
the  holiest  that  earth  had  ever  witnessed. 
She  felt  as  though  she  suffered  in  com- 


26 


The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

pany  with  the  noblest  and  blessedest 
among  women,  and  the  total  darkness 
which  had  before  overspread  her  soul 
was  lighted  up  by  a cheering  ray,  mild, 
serene,  and  pure,  as  that  which  tempered 
the  shadows  of  night  within  that  sanctu- 
ary. She  felt  that  she  could  return  to 
her  desolate  home  with  resignation  at 
least,  after  what  she  had  contemplated. 

But  before  she  rose  from  prayer,  she 
had  made  an  offering  to  the  Almighty, 
through  the  hands  of  the  Blessed  Vir- 
gin, which  she  did  not  tell  to  her  mother 
for  some  time  after.  She  felt  as  though 
it  was  accepted,  and  she  was  comforted. 

Let  it  not  be  thought  that  we  have 
described  conduct  or  feelings  beyond 
the  age  of  such  a child.  In  the  world 
we  ordinarily  have  no  idea  of  the  matur- 
ity of  grace  to  which  children,  brought 
up  under  the  Church’s  wings,  are  some- 
times brought  by  Him  who  “ out  of  the 
mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings  bringeth 
forth  perfect  praise.”  We  hear  often 
among  us  of  precocious  talent,  seldom 
of  precocious  virtue  ; yet  one  is  as  natr 


Its  Darkening . 


27 


Ural  in  its  own  order  as  the  other.  But 
not  only  do  the  lives  of  saints,  as  those 
of  St.  Rose  of  Lima,  St.  Mary  Magde- 
len  di  Pazzi,  St.  Catharine  of  Sienna, 
present  us  with  instances  of  intelligence 
and  spiritual  illumination  in  even  an 
earlier  age,  but  at  this  day  are  yet  such 
examples  to  be  found,  and  that  within 
the  compass  of  our  own  knowledge. 
And  if  parents,  mothers  in  particular, 
knew  how  to  train  their  children  from 
the  cradle  for  God ; if  instead  of  fond- 
ling their  infant  humors,  and  caressing 
their  very  passions  and  caprices,  they 
turned  the  first  dawn  of  their  reason  to 
the  knowlege  and  consideration  of  the 
Divine  Goodness,  and  shaped  their  lips 
to  utter  as  first  sounds  the  two  sweet- 
est names  in  human  speech,  many  who 
now  have  to  weep  over  the  follies  and 
vices  of  their  offspring  might  be  thank- 
ing God  instead  for  having  blessed 
their  family  with  a saint. 

But  to  proceed.  When  the  mother 
and  daughter  returned  home,  they  were 
far  better  able  to  encounter  the  melan- 


28  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

clioly  of  their  cottage  than  when  they 
left  it ; nor  did  its  gloom  appear  so  deep, 
especially  to  the  latter.  She  seemed  al- 
most cheerful,  as  she  bid  her  mother 
put  her  trust  in  God  and  in  the  inter- 
cession of  His  blessed  Mother.  It  was 
late  next  morning  when  Pierrot  sud- 
denly entered,  with  a pale  and  haggard 
look  ; he  cast  a purse  upon  the  table 
at  which  his  wife  and  daughter  were 
sitting,  and  hurried,  without  uttering 
a word,  into  his  bedroom.  They  both 
gazed  long  in  silent  amazement  at  the 
unwonted  sight;  and  when  Pierrot,  after 
a few  hours’  troubled  rest,  came  back,  he 
was  surprised  and  mortified  at  finding 
his  purse  lying  untouched  where  he  had 
thrown  it. 

“ What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ? ” he 
asked  with  some  bitterness.  “ Do  you 
take  that  purse  for  some  venomous  ani- 
mal, that  you  have  been  afraid  to  touch 
it?” 

“ Pierrot,”  answered  his  wife,  “ how 
is  it  come  by  ? ” 

“ Honestly,  I assure  you,”  he  replied. 


Its  Darkening . 


29 


44  You  do  not,  I hope,  think  me  capable 
of  theft  or  robbery  ? ” 

44  God  forbid ! ” rejoined  his  wife, 
44  but  you  have  done  very  little  work  of 
late;  and  it  would  take  long  in  your 
craft,  even  with  great  industry,  to  amass 
such  a sum.  A purseful  like  that,  got 
in  one  night,  looks,  you  will  own,  to  say 
the  least,  suspicious.” 

44  Then  make  yourselves  easy,”  said 
Pierrot, 44  it  is  honestty  come  by.  I have 
fallen  in  with  acquaintances  who  have 
put  me  into  the  way  of  a successful 
commercial  speculation  ; and  these  I 
hope  are  only  its  first  fruits.” 

The  poor  woman  was  glad  to  receive 
the  comforts  of  his  words.  But  though 
she  looked  contented  and  put  up  the 
purse,  she  could  not  bring  herself  to 
use  its  contents.  She  redoubled  her 
industry,  and  wore  herself  to  death  at 
her  wheel,  to  keep  up  appearances  and 
guard  off  famine ; but  neither  she  nor 
her  daughter  would  touch  the  suspi- 
cious gold.  And  often  would  Pierrot 
bring  more,  after  having  been  out  a night, 


30  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

and  sometimes  two  and  the  intervening 
day  ; yet  the  store  remained  untouched. 
For  one  sign  was  in  their  eyes  decisive. 
Pierrot  was  no  longer  the  same.  He 
neglected  every  religious  duty,  was  sel- 
dom seen  at  church  except  on  Sunday, 
and  then  seemed  to  have  no  pleasure  in 
its  duties. 

Once  it  happened  that  his  little  daugh- 
ter enticed  him  in  the  afternoon  to 
Mont-Marie,  where,  taking  her  usual 
place  she  prayed  earnestly  for  him  and 
renewed  the  offering  of  herself  before 
alluded  to  ; she  prolonged  her  prayer 
beyond  dusk  by  the  favorite  light  of  the 
sanctuary  lamp  ; but  on  rising  from  her 
knees  she  found  her  father  gone.  He 
was  waiting  outside,  and  on  her  affec- 
tionately remonstrating  with  him  on  his 
impatience  on  leaving  the  church  he  re- 
plied : 

“ For  my  part  I wonder  how  you  can 
staj7  so  long,  and  pray  by  that  dim  and  dis- 
mal light.  By  it  the  church  looked  to  me 
like  a dark  sepulchral  vault  so  gloomy 
and  oppressive.  The  pictures  on  the 


Its  Darkening. 


31 


walls  stared  at  me  like  so  many  ghosts, 
or  appeared  to  frown  upon  me.  It  made 
even  the  image  of  the  Blessed  Virgin 
look  cold  and  stern.  I could  not  stand 
it,  and  came  out  to  breathe  a mouthful 
of  fresh  air.” 

The  child  sighed,  and  said,  “ Ah ! 
dearest  father,  you  used  not  to  speak  so. 
There  must  be  something  amiss  in  that 
breast  that  loves  not,  or  dares  not,  to 
pray  by  the  still  light  of  the  sanctuary 
lamp  ! ” 

Pierrot  walked  home  in  silence,  and 
for  some  weeks  was  more  steady  at  his 
work.  But  he  soon  relapsed  into  his 
former  habits,  and  even  extended  his 
absence  from  home  to  longer  periods — 
to  weeks  instead  of  days.  It  is  time,  how- 
ever, that  we  explain  the  cause  of  this  un- 
happy change.  The  new-comers  to  his 
neighborhood,  whom  we  have  mentioned, 
belonged  to  a rough  and  unprincipled 
class  that  hang  (especially  in  mountain 
districts)  about  the  frontiers  of  foreign 
countries.  They  were  contrabandists  or 
smugglers,  who  contracted  for  a certain 


32  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

profit  to  carry  French  goods  over  the 
Spanish  border  without  paying  duty  ; 
and  this  was  often  done  by  large  parties 
on  a great  scale  in  spite  of  the  vigilance 
of  revenue  officers,  whom  they  did  not 
scruple  to  attack  and  fight  in  case  of  sur- 
prise. These  two  men  and  their  families 
were  old  offenders  and  experienced 
hands.  Being  too  well  known  at  their 
former  station,  and  having  observed  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Mont-Marie  passes 
comparatively  but  slightly  guarded  in 
consequence  of  the  honesty  of  the  peas- 
antry, they  had  determined  to  turn  the 
circumstance  to  their  advantage,  and 
came  to  settle  in  that  neighborhood.  But 
to  succeed,  they  saw  it  was  necessary  to 
get  some  one  to  join  them  who  was  well 
acquainted  with  every  nook  and  track 
among  the  crags  and  mountains  ; and, 
having  taken  some  time  to  pick  up  ac- 
quaintance with  the  characters  of*  their 
neighbors,  they  fixed  upon  poor  Pierrot 
as  their  victim,  not  only  because  he  was 
an  expert  mountaineer,  but  because  his 
very  gentleness  of  character,  the  result 


Its  Darkening. 


33 


of  his  virtue,  would  enable  them,  could 
they  but  once  corrupt  him,  to  keep  him 
more  completely  under  their  power  than 
one  of  rougher  and  sterner  cast. 

They  began,  therefore,  artfully  to  in- 
sinuate themselves  into  his  familiarity 
and  friendship  by  expressing  an  interest 
in  him  and  his  family  and  their  pity  at 
seeing  him  toiling  all  day  for  a paltry 
pittance,  when  by  commercial  undertak- 
ings, sure  of  success,  he  could  soon  put 
himself  in  far  better  circumstances. 
Pierrot  listened  at  first  with  indifference, 
and  then  with  curiosity,  which  soon  grew 
up  into  eagerness,  to  their  tempting 
suggestions.  At  length  they  unfolded 
their  schemes  more  openly,  and  he  was 
startled.  But  for  this  they  were  pre- 
pared ; and  after  the  first  shock  was 
over,  they  began  to  remove  his  scruples. 
They  told  him  speciously  that  they  were 
French  subjects,  and  consequently  not 
bound  by  the  Spanish  laws,  which  alone 
forbade  the  introduction  of  goods  across 
the  boundary  ; that,  consequently,  with 
them  this  could  not  be  wrong,  but  was 
3 


34  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

merely  a commercial  speculation  at- 
tended with  risk  of  seizure,  just  like  a 
venture  in  time  of  war,  or  a ship’s  freight 
sent  through  the  boisterous  ocean  in 
winter. 

Pierrot  was  at  last  engaged  to  join  in 
one  of  their  expeditions;  they  took  care 
that  it  should  be  a safe,  easy,  and  pleas- 
ant one  ; and  he  received  as  his  share  of 
profit  the  purse  which  he  threw  on  the 
table  of  his  cottage.  Although  his  con- 
science was  ill  at  ease,  the  love  of  money 
had  now  struck  root  in  his  heart,  and 
he  was  soon  so  surrounded  with  the  toils 
of  his  artful  seducers  that  he  had  no 
longer  strength  to  disentangle  himself 
or  to  break  through  them.  Such  is  the 
history  of  many  a good  but  weak  mind 
that  has  but  listened  to  the  arts  of  a de- 
ceiver. Its  very  goodness  makes  it  an 
unequal  match  for  well-trained  cunning 
and  daring  profligacy.  After  its  first 
fall  its  powers  are  broken,  and  it  allows 
itself  to  be  led  by  the  will  of  its  en- 
snarer. 

\fter  Pierrot’s  visit,  described  above, 


Its  Darkening . 


35 


to  the  sanctuary  of  Mont-Marie,  his 
companions,  afraid  of  his  escape  from 
them,  and  of  his  betraying  them,  de- 
termined to  involve  him  still  deeper  in 
crime.  First,  when  they  had  again  pre- 
vailed on  him  to  join  them,  they  took 
him  upon  a more  venturesome  expedi- 
tion, which,  as  they  had  foreseen,  led  to 
an  encounter  with  the  revenue-guard; 
shots  were  fired,  blows  were  struck,  and 
the  pass  was  forced  by  sheer  violence. 
A few  days  after  placards  were  posted  in 
all  the  neighboring  villages  offering  re- 
wards for  the  discovery  of  the  offenders, 
with  free  pardon  to  accomplices  who 
should  betray  them.  Pierrot’s  tyrants 
next  showed  him  these,  and  threatened, 
on  his  first  attempt  to  dispute  their  will, 
to  carry  him  over  the  frontier,  and  de- 
liver him  to  the  authorities. 

He  was  now  their  victim,  their  tool 
in  any  wicked  enterprise.  He  had  no 
longer  a will  of  his  own ; he  seemed  to 
have  surrendered  his  very  soul  into  their 
hands,  and  there  was  no  extent  of  crime 
(short  of  murder)  to  which  they  did  not 


36  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary. 

lead  him  at  their  pleasure.  They  had 
at  last  ventured  to  unveil  to  him  their 
real  characters  as  outlaws  and  banditti. 
They  made  him  join  them  in  their  mid- 
night robberies ; but  he  sickened  at  the 
very  thought  of  polluting  his  once  hap- 
py dwelling  with  the  fruit  of  his  villain- 
ies ; he  refused  a share  in  the  spoils,  and 
whenever  he  returned  home,  it  was  only 
with  more  haggard  looks,  more  tortured 
conscience,  and  an  empty  purse. 

He  loathed  his  very  life,  he  gnawed 
his  heart  in  sorrow,  and  the  most  desper- 
ate thought,  even  of  self-destruction,  be- 
gan to  haunt  his  mind.  His  compan- 
ions saw  him  sometimes  looking  over  the 
edge  of  a precipice,  as  if  deliberating 
whether  to  throw  himself  headlong,  or 
feeling  the  point  of  a dagger,  as  if  med- 
itating a self-aimed  blow.  But  a cold 
shudder  would  creep  over  his  frame  ; he 
would  draw  suddenly  back,  or  cast  the 
weapon  away:  while  his  companions 
would  break  into  a coarse,  unfeeling  peal 
of  laughter,  and  dare  him  to  accomplish 
his  thought.  Yes  ! thanks  to  heaven, 


Its  Darkening. 


37 


Pierrot  had  not  yet  lost  his  belief  in 
eternity ; he  remembered  that  there 
was  a bottomless  gulf  below  the  depths 
of  the  precipice,  and  that  there  was  a 
sword  of  Divine  Justice  there  keener 
than  the  dagger’s  point. 

But  his  companions  saw  that  they 
would  soon  lose  their  hold  on  him,  that 
his  desperation  would  drive  him  to  some 
deed  that  would  betray  them.  They, 
therefore,  with  artful  villainy  changed 
their  course.  They  assured  him  of  their 
willingness  to  release  him  from  his  pain- 
ful life.  One,  only  one  more  enterprise 
did  they  require  him  to  join : it  was  an 
easy  and  safe  one ; and  after  that  they 
would  quit  the  neighborhood,  and  he 
should  be  left  in  peace.  In  peace  ! Lit- 
tle did  they  know  or  care  how  effectually 
they  had  driven  this  from  his  heart,  how 
they  had  banished  it  from  his  life  ! Still, 
to  him  there  was  comfort  in  their  words  ; 
and  he  almost  longed  to  commit  the 
crime  which  was  to  be  his  last.  A day 
was  fixed  for  it,  yet  a month  off,  and  this 
seemed  like  an  age  to  Pierrot.  Nor 


38  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary. 

could  any  entreaties  prevail  on  them  to 
communicate  to  him  the  nature  of  their 
intention.  Only  he  clearly  saw  pre- 
parations making  at  their  houses  for 
a complete  and  sudden  flight ; and  in 
this  he  felt  he  had  the  best  pledge  and 
security  for  the  truth  of  their  prom- 
ises. 

Let  us,  in  the  mean  time,  return  to  con- 
sider his  poor  wife  and  child.  Every 
month  of  the  period  over  which  we  have 
traced  Pierrot’s  evil  course  had  sunk 
them  deeper  in  misery  and  in  sorrow. 
Of  the  character  of  his  crimes  they  had 
no  evidence  ; for,  as  he  never  brought 
home  his  share  of  plunder,  and  as  he 
kept  a moody  silence  and  reserve,  they 
had  no  ground  on  which  to  suspect 
farther  than  that  he  was  engaged  in 
something  very  wrong.  Even  when  at 
home,  he  could  get  but  little  work,  for 
now  no  one  cared  to  employ  him  ; and 
so  his  once  neat  and  happy  dwelling 
bore  marks  of  poverty,  neglect,  and  de- 
cay. And  within,  too,  all  was  sorrow 
and  distress ; no  cheerful  conversation, 


Its  Darkening . 


39 


no  smile,  no  confidence.  The  mother 
and  the  daughter,  indeed,  understood 
one  another,  but  it  was  more  by  silent 
sympathy  than  by  exchange  of  senti- 
ment ; for  each  feared  ever  to  swell  the 
other’s  grief,  and  generally  stifled  her  in- 
ward feelings,  and  repressed  the  gush- 
ing tear,  or  wept  alone.  And  let  this  be 
added  to  the  praises  of  the  poor,  that 
none  better  than  they  have  the  inborn 
delicacy  to  honor  virtue  in  distress,  and 
refrain  from  sarcasm  and  reproach 
against  those  whom  bitter  trials  oppress. 
Never  was  the  conduct  of  Pierrot, 
though  now  notorious  and  a public 
scandal,  cast  into  the  face  of  these  two 
forlorn  ones,  morally  indeed  a widow 
and  an  orphan.  But  rather  it  seemed 
as  if  a tacit  honor  was  paid  to  their 
suffering  innocence ; every  one  made 
way  for  them ; every  one  seemed  to 
soften  his  voice  as  he  addressed  them  ; 
many  a present,  artfully  conveyed  so  as 
to  repress  all  sense  of  obligation,  made 
its  way  to  their  cottage  to  soothe  their 
distress  ; and  many  a kind  hope  that 


40 


The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary. 

God  would  console  them  was  whispered 
at  the  church  door  in  their  ear. 

And  He  did,  in  truth,  console  them  ; 
for  without  His  presence,  His  grace,  His 
light,  His  Food,  their  hearts  would  long 
since  have  been  broken  by  despairing 
sorrow.  A gain  and  again  did  they  kneel 
at  evening  before  the  altar,  and  there 
ever  found  they  the  calm  and  peace 
which  resignation  to  the  Divine  Will 
alone  can  give.  It  was  on  one  of  these 
occasions  that  a new  association  of  ideas 
led  our  little  contemplative  to  consoling 
thoughts,  akin  to  those  we  have  seen 
the  sanctuary’s  lamp  had  before  sug- 
gested ; only  from  the  sorrows  of  the 
Mother  it  guided  her  to  those  of  the  Son. 
She  had  been  reading  in  her  little  rude 
picture-Bible,  and  had  there  seen  illus- 
trated the  vision  of  Zacharias(chap.  iv.), 
in  which  is  described  the  golden  candle- 
stick before  the  altar,  on  either  side 
whereof  stands  an  olive-tree,  the  over- 
hanging branches  of  which,  through 
golden  funnels,  feed  the  sacred  lamps 
with  an  unfailing  light  and  unction 


Its  Darkening . 


41 


(verse  12).  To  this  her  thoughts  re- 
verted as  the  soothing  light  of  the  lamp 
fell  upon  her;  and,  wearied  much  with 
sorrow,  she  fell  into  one  of  those  calm 
moods  of  meditation  in  which  the 
thoughts  arise  spontaneously  and  pass, 
as  on  a mirror,  before  the  mind,  seeming 
but  the  reflection  of  objects  presented 
by  an  external,  but  invisible  power.  It 
appeared  to  her  as  though  the  lamp  be- 
fore the  altar  were  enlarged  in  its  di- 
mensions, and  became  a golden  font, 
in  the  midst  of  which  burned  a flame, 
celestial  in  its  purity  and  its  brightness; 
while  over  its  edge  flowed  on  every  side 
a rich  amber  wave  of  purest  oil,  some  of 
which  was  caught  up  by  unseen  hands  in 
golden  phials,  and  borne  away  as  a pre- 
cious treasure  into  the  Church’s  stores; 
whence  dispensed,  in  a triple  stream,  it 
hallowed  the  child,  consecrated  the  high- 
priests  of  God,  and  anointed  the  dying 
wrestler  against  the  powers  of  hell  ; 
while  some  fell  in  drops  like  balm  upon 
her  and  others,  and  where  it  fell,  closed 
a wound,  or  healed  a sore,  or  soothed  a 


42  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

pain,  or  stilled  a throb.  It  dropped  upon 
her  lips,  and  it  was  bitter  with  the  bitter- 
ness of  myrrh,  but  withal  savory,  and 
as  a cordial  to  her  breast.  Then  as  she 
wondered  whence  came  this  marvellous 
overflow  of  abundance  (like  the  filling 
of  the  widow  of  Sarepta’s  vessels),  she 
saw  above  a branch  of  a dark  and  gloomy 
olive,  which  overhung  it,  and  distilled 
into  it,  from  its  purple  fruit,  thick 
clammy  drops  of  its  healing  juice.  And 
when  again  she  wondered  whence  this 
chosen  plant  derived  its  sacred  sap,  she 
looked  naturally  down  towards  its 
twisted  roots,  and  there  beheld  One 
prostrate  as  in  anguish  and  prayer.  His 
face  could  not  be  seen,  for  His  pale  fore- 
head touched  the  ground  ; but  His  dark 
robe  seemed  as  studded  with  princely 
gems — rubies  or  carbuncles  of  sparkling 
brightness.  And  by  degrees  these  in- 
creased in  size  and  began  to  flow,  trick- 
ling, as  a dew,  upon  that  consecrated 
ground.  For  they  were  the  first  life- 
drops,  earnest  of  a fuller  flow,  which 
burst  through  those  pores,  whence  vir- 


Its  Darkening. 


43 


tue  went  oat  to  heal  all.  By  these  was 
fed  and  enriched,  while  it  was  hallowed, 
that  tree  which  first,  after  the  deluge, 
put  forth  branches  of  promise  of  peace 
and  of  hope,  and  sent  by  the  dove  the 
first  tidings  of  reconciliation  to  the  world 
baptized.  And  hence  the  fruit  of  that 
tree  was  made  the  third  in  order  of 
earth’s  most  precious  produce,  joined 
ever  to  the  u corn  and  the  wine  ” in  the 
threats  and  in  the  promises  of  proph- 
ecy,* and  forming  with  them  the  triple 
power,  whereby  men  are  multiplied 
and  strengthened  in  sacramental  life.f 

To  that  youthful  child’s  heart  there 
seemed  as  clear  connection  between  this 
consecration  and  its  fruits,  as  there  was 
between  Our  Lord’s  descent  into  the  wa- 
ters of  Jordan,  and  the  mystical  sanctifica- 
tion of  that  cleansing  element.  The  olive 
consecrated  by  the  holy  unction  of  our 
Redeemer’s  first  blood,  became  to  the 

*Deut.  xi.  14;  xxviii.  5;  Jer.  xxxi.  12;  Os. 
ii.  8. 

t Ps.  iv.  8 : “ By  the  fruit  of  their  corn, 
wine  and  oil,  they  have  been  multiplied/* 


44  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

Church  a sacred  tree,  whose  juice  can 
soften,  nourish,  heal,  render  at  once  sup- 
ple and  strong,  the  soul  sacramentally, 
as  the  body  naturally,  and  alone  is  fit, 
with  the  produce  of  the  industry  of  the 
virgin  bee,  to  light  up  the  sanctuary  of 
God.  These  musings  of  the  sorrowful 
child  brought  their  consolation,  by  lead- 
ing her  thoughts  to  that  scene  of  sor- 
sow,  in  which  even  agony  of  mind  may 
learn  resignation.  And  this  thought 
struck  her : If  in  the  courts  of  the  heav- 

enly Jerusalem  it  shall  be  said  to  holy 
virgins,  spouses  of  the  Lamb,  “God,  thy 
God,  hath  anointed  thee  with  the  oil  of 
gladness,”  shall  it  not  be  said  that  here 
below  there  is  an  oil  of  affliction  too, 
with  which  the  servants  of  God  are 
anointed,  and  rendered  thereby  no  less 
pleasing  ? And  happy  the  virgin  who, 
waiting  for  her  Bridegroom,  has  her 
lamp  trimmed  with  this  holy  oil,  aye,  and 
plenty  of.it  in  her  vessel  too,  lest  it  be 
extinguished.  And  if  it  fail  her,  oh  ! 
let  her  hasten  in  time  thither,  where 
best  it  can  be  found  and  procured,  to  the 


Its  Darkening.  45 

Mount  of  Olives,  the  hill  of  unction 
and  of  light. 

While  the  youthful  contemplative  was 
enjoying  these  thoughts,  and  praying 
that  her  lamp  might  be  found  burning 
whenever  the  summons  should  come,  her 
mother  touched  her  shoulder,  and  ad- 
monished her  that  it  was  time  to  return 
home.  The  visions  of  her  childish  im- 
agination melted  away,  and  she  found 
herself  once  more,  basking  in  the  lustre 
of  the  sanctuary’s  lamp. 


CHAPTER  TIT. 


ITS  EXTINCTION. 

“ The  light  shall  be  dark  in  His  tabernacle , 
and  the  lamp  that  is  over  Him  shall  be  put 
out.” — Job  xviii. 

It  is  a trite  remark  that  as  a lamp  will 
shine  the  more  brightly  in  proportion  to 
the  darkness  which  surrounds  it.  so  will 
virtue  appear  more  brilliant  when  the 
gloom  of  adversity  has  closed  around  it. 
Or,  still  drawing  our  illustration  from 
our  subject,  we  may  say  that  as  the  lamps 
of  Gideon’s  soldiers  did  not  show  their 
dazzling  brilliancy  till  the  vessels  of  clay 
in  which  they  were  inclosed  had  been 
bruised,  broken,  and  utterly  crushed,  so 
did  the  virtues  of  Pierrot’s  wife  and 
daughter  break  forth  with  increased 
lustre  the  more  their  poor  humanity 
was  bowed  down,  the  more  their  bodies 
were  wasted  with  want  and  their  hearts 
46 


Its  Extinction, 


47 


broken  with  affliction.  Upon  that  of  the 
daughter  a new  grief  seemed  now  to 
have  come  ; but  though  it  passed  occa- 
sionally like  a cloud  over  her  brow,  suf- 
ficiently distinct  not  to  escape  her  watch- 
ful mother’s  eye,  yet  was  it  always 
succeeded  immediately  by  a bright  seren- 
ity, which  clearly  came  not  from  earthly 
consolation.  While  they  were  sitting 
together  at  their  work  in  silence,  a sigh 
would  escape  her,  a tear  would  steal 
down ; but  the  next  instant  her  hands 
would  drop  upon  her  knees,  her  eyes 
and  countenance  would  be  upturned  to- 
wards heaven,  a bright  smile  would  beam 
upon  her  features,  and  her  lips  would 
move  as  if  addressing  some  one  near. 
In  those  moments  her  mother  ventured 
not  to  address  her,  but  would  gaze  on 
her  in’ admiration  and  awe,  believing  her 
to  be  in  close  communion  with  better 
spirits. 

At  length,  one  day  she  asked  her  what 
now  so  much  occupied  her  thoughts. 
“ I will  conceal  nothing  from  you,  my 
dearest  mother,”  replied  the  child ; “ the 


48 


The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

truth  is,  I can  hardly  bear  to  think  that 
in  a few  days  my  term  of  consecration 
under  your  vow  will  expire,  and  that  I 
must  put  off  my  white  garment  and  re- 
sume that  of  the  world.” 

“ And  yet,  my  child,”  her  mother  an- 
swered, “ it  is  better  for  us  all  that  it 
should  be  so.  You  are  now  getting 
strong  enough  to  go  to  work  in  the 
fields,  and  this  is  impossible  in  your 
present  attire.  Nor  can  I go  and  leave 
you  alone  at  home.  It  is  necessary  that 
we  should  exert  ourselves  more  and 

more;  for — ” She  paused,  for  what 

she  was  going  to  say  would  have  been 
a reproach  to  her  husband,  and  that 
she  would  not  utter.  But  her  tears 
expressed  her  meaning.  Her  daughter 
replied : 

“ It  is  not  that  I grudge  toil,  or  shrink 
from  being  like  what  I in  truth  am,  a 
poor  peasant  girl ; but  I feel  as  though, 
on  putting  off  this  religious  attire,  I 
shall  be  exposing  myself  more  com- 
pletely to  the  dangers  and  temptations 


Its  Extinction . 


49 


of  the  world  ; and,  perhaps,  losing  some 
claim  to  that  protection  of  the  Queen  of 
heaven,  as  whose  child  I have  been  till 
now  brought  up.  But  it  is  time,  my 
dear  mother,  that  I should  tell  you  of  an 
offering  which  I made  on  that  night 
when,  for  the  first  time,  he  absented 
himself  from  home,  and  have  often  since 
repeated  before  the  altar.  There  I have 
again  and  again  prayed  that  I may  never 
be  allowed  to  put  off  my  white  garments, 
but  may  be  allowed  to  bear  them  down 
into  my  grave  unstained ; and  far- 
ther  ” she  hesitated  and  faltered  as 

she  added,  “ I have  begged  of  God  to 
take  my  life  in  exchange  for  my  dear 
father’s  conversion  and  return  to  virtue. 
I cannot  help  hoping  that  my  prayer  and 
offering  have  been  accepted.” 

Her  mother  was  greatly  troubled  on 
hearing  this,  and  hastily  answered  : 
“ Beware,  my  child,  lest  you  tempt 
Heaven.  May  God  hear  your  prayer  on 
behalf  of  your  poor  father  ; but  not  on 
that  condition.  Indeed,”  she  added, 
after  a moment’s  reflection,  “I  do  not 
4 


50 


The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

see  what  reason  there  can  be  to  fear  it ; 
for  never,  in  spite  of  our  sufferings,  did 
you  seem  to  me  stronger  or  in  better 
health.” 

It  was  now,  notwithstanding,  finally 
arranged  between  mother  and  daughter 
that  on  the  morning  of  the  anniversary 
of  the  vow,  they  should  proceed  very 
early  to  the  church,  so  to  enjoy  a few 
hours’  silent  prayer  by  the  light  of  the 
sacred  lamp,  which  the  child  loved  so 
much,  before  receiving  communion  in 
thanksgiving ; after  which  she  would 
change  her  white  dress  for  the  ordinary 
peasant’s  cloak,  and  so  return  home. 
And  these  preliminaries  arranged,  and 
the  priest’s  consent  obtained,  who  was  to 
leave  the  church  door  open  for  them, 
they  both  forbore  to  revert  again  to  the 
subject.  Only  Marie  seemed  ever  intent 
on  it  in  her  thoughts,  while  occupied  in 
preparing  the  dress,  in  which  she  should 
make  her  last  appearance  as  one  conse- 
crated to  God,  that  its  whiteness  and 
purity  might  be  perfect ; and  the  while 
weaving  a garland  of  choicest  flowers,  as 


Its  Extinction . 


51 


her  last  offering,  to  crown  the  image  of 
her  Lady  and  Patroness. 

But  once  again  we  must  withdraw 
our  reader’s  attention  from  the  contem- 
plation of  the  virtues  of  mother  and 
daughter  to  trace  the  ruinous  course 
of  the  unfortunate  Pierrot,  and  see  him 
plunged  at  last  into  the  lowest  abyss  of 
guilt  and  degradation.  The  month  was 
expired  which  had  been  agreed  on  be- 
fore the  commission  of  the  crime  prom- 
ised to  be  his  last.  The  day  in  fact  was 
come  on  the  night  of  which  it  had  to 
he  perpetrated,  and  still  an  impenetra- 
ble secrecy  was  preserved  by  all  around 
him  as  to  what  it  was  to  be.  By  this 
time  everything  worth  moving  in  the 
houses  of  his  two  accomplices  was  packed 
up  for  instant  flight,  and  mules  were  in 
readiness  to  carry  their  baggage  and 
families  over  the  frontiers.  As  to  him- 
self, he  had  not  taken  any  measures 
either  to  fly  or  to  secure  himself  against 
the  pursuit  of  justice  ; not  merely  be- 
cause he  was  in  such  ignorance  about 
the  crime  that  he  knew  not  how  he  could 


52  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

best  shape  his  course,  especially  with  his 
family  on  his  hands,  but  also  because  he 
was  almost  reckless  as  to  consequences, 
and  hardly  cared  what  the  result  might 
be.  A prey  to  remorse,  to  shame  and  to 
bitter  grief,  he  would  have  preferred  a 
prison,  the  galleys,  or  the  scaffold,  to  his 
presentstate ; and  forgot  all  consequences 
and  all  risks  in  the  assurance  that,  af- 
ter this  one  crime,  he  should  be  freed 
from  his  present  thraldom.  During  that 
last  day  of  their  partnership  in  guilt, 
his  companions  strove  to  occupy"  his 
thoughts,  and  divert  him  from  unpleasant 
anticipations  by  their  wild  discourse; 
and  after  their  meal  they  plied  him  with 
strong  drink,  which,  if  it  did  not  act- 
ually intoxicate  him,  dulled  his  faculties 
and  heated  his  blood.  He  was  ready 
for  anything,  and  he  seemed  to  have 
made  up  his  mind  for  any  crime,  in  a 
desperate  mood  of  excitement,  almost 
amounting  to  frenzy.  And  still  he 
shuddered  within  himself  at  thinking 
that  possibly  murder  might  be  demanded 
from  him : no  other  wicked  deed  now 


Its  Extinction . 


53 


seemed  to  him  terrible  or  impossible. 
And  yet,  when  the  proposed  crime  was 
unveiled  to  him,  it  was  one  as  much  be- 
yond his  thoughts  as  this,  and  appeared 
to  him  no  less  frightful ; and  he  shrank 
from  it  with  a trembling  horror  that 
staggered  his  very  companions. 

It  was  not  till  late  at  night,  when  on 
the  point  of  starting  from  the  house,  that 
the  object  of  their  expedition  was  re- 
vealed to  Pierrot.  It  was  no  less  than 
to  plunder  the  church  of  Mont-Marie,  to 
strip  it  of  its  silver  and  donatives,  its 
rich  altar-plate,  the  ornaments  of  its 
image  and  its  tabernacle,  and  carry  the 
whole  over  the  frontiers  into  Spain. 
They  had  made  all  necessary  arrange- 
ments for  concealing  or  melting  down 
their  rich  booty,  so  as  to  escape  detec- 
tion . 

Had  a thunderbolt  struck  the  head  of 
the  unfortunate  Pierrot,  he  could  hardly 
have  been  more  stunned  than  he  was  on 
hearing  this.  The  moment  he  was  a lit- 
tle recovered  from  his  first  amazement, 
he  began  to  storm  and  protest  that  no 


54  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

consideration  on  earth  should  ever  pre- 
vail on  him  to  commit  so  horrible  and 
so  ungrateful  a sacrilege.  * But  his  com- 
panions now  knew  their  power,  and 
dealt  with  him  as  a skilful  angler  does 
with  a fish  that  feels  the  first  smart  of 
the  hook  ; they  gave  him  play,  and  al- 
lowed him  to  vent  his  feelings ; and  then, 
when  he  had  exhausted  his  first  burst 
of  passion,  began  to  draw  him  into  the 
full  gripe  of  their  wicked  might.  For 
this  purpose  they  represented  to  him 
that  it  was  too  late  to  draw  back — for  if 
he  attempted  it  they  would  immediately 
fulfil  their  threats  of  delivering  him  up. 
They  told  him  that  it  was  mere  folly  to 
shrink  from  the  commission  of  one  crime 
more,  which  tliej7’  had  promised  should 
be  the  last ; that  if  he  ever  repented,  it 
would  be  as  easy  to  repent  of  this  as  its 
predecessors ; if  not,  that  he  was  fully 
lost  by  what  he  had  already  done,  and 
could  not  make  his  case  worse.  Many 
other  wicked  arguments  and  persuasions 
they  employed  : and  when  at  last  all 
else  had  failed,  they  savagely  threatened 


Its  Extinction . 


55 


to  wreak  their  vengeance  upon  his  fam- 
ily, and  to  proceed  at  once  to  murder 
his  wife  and  daughter. 

They  had  two  motives  for  this  cruel 
earnestness  in  wishing  to  have  him  as 
their  accomplice.  First,  from  his  con- 
versations they  had  ascertained  that  he 
knew  accurately  what  was  of  real,  and 
what  of  apparent,  value  among  the 
ornaments  of  the  church  ; what  was 
really  of  silver,  and  what  only  of  baser 
metal;  as  he  had  often  assisted  as  vol- 
untary sacristan  there  in  his  better  days. 
They,  on  the  contrary,  had  never  taken 
more  than  a cursory  glance  at  the  riches 
accumulated  in  the  sanctuary,  enough 
to  inflame  their  desires,  but  not  to  guide 
them  in  the  selections  of  spoil.  But, 
farther,  they  had  a still  baser  and  blacker 
mot've;  they  had  only  valued  Pierrot 
as  a tool  ; and  having  no  further  use  for 
his  active  services  after  that  night,  it  was 
their  intention  to  make  him  serviceable 
as  a victim  by  flying  themselves  and 
leaving  him  behind  to  be  seized  on  by 
public  justice,  so  as  themselves  to  elude 


56  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

its  pursuit.  His  connection  with  them 
would,  of  course,  be  suspected,  and  the 
weakness  of  his  character,  which  would 
make  him  at  once  own  his  guilt,  would 
bring  down  upon  him  the  vengeance  of 
the  law,  which  would  then  be  less  eager 
in  its  search  after  them.  Such  were 
the  fiendish  feelings  of  his  companions 
for  him ; such,  in  other  words,  is  the 
friendship  of  the  wicked  ! 

The  terrible  menace  of  the  ruffians 
was  uttered  with  such  rage,  and  yet  in 
so  determined  a tone  that,  with  Pierrot’s 
experience  of  their  character,  he  saw  it 
was  made  in  earnest,  and  would  be  un- 
scrupulously carried  into  execution. 
His  resolution  failed  him  : the  thought 
of  all  his  past  neglect  and  cruel  aband- 
onment of  those  whom  in  his  secret 
heart  he  still  loved,  and  actually  rever- 
enced, rushed  upon  him.  Must  he  in 
the  end  prove  their  death — their  mur- 
derer in  some  sort  ? He  could  not  bear 
to  think  it ; and  in  an  agony  of  con- 
tending feelings,  and  with  a protest  to 
heaven,  he  chose  what  he  thought  the 


Its  Extinction . 


5? 


lesser  curse,  and  consented  to  accom- 
pany his  tyrants. 

Time  urged,  for  they  had  lost  much 
of  the  night  in  this  contention ; but 
still  it  wanted  some  hours  till  day,  and 
the  robbers  durst  not  now  put  off  their 
enterprise.  Silent  and  sullen  they 
reached  the  church-door,  and  it  was 
agreed  that  one  should  stay  outside 
with  the  mule  and  keep  watch  while  the 
leader  with  Pierrot  should  enter,  and 
bring  out  the  spoil. 

They  found  the  door  unlocked ; but 
this  did  not  surprise  them,  for  no  one  in 
the  neighborhood  ever  dreamt  of  the  pos- 
sibility of  sacrilege.  Cautiously  and  si- 
lently they  opened  it,  and  entered  in,  both 
paused  upon  the  threshold,  as  if  over- 
awed ; even  the  hardened  robber  seemed 
afraid  to  advance.  So  deeply  still  and 
silent;  was  that  lonely  sanctuary,  that 
Pierrot  could  actually  hear  his  heart 
beat  against  his  side  as  it  throbbed 
in  remorse  and  fear.  The  flame  of  the 
lamp  was  burning  bright  and  clear,  and 
the  entire  holy  place  basked  in  its  tern- 


58  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

pered  radiance.  Never,  in  his  days  of 
virtue,  had  it  looked  to  him  more  sacred, 
more  venerable,  or  more  lovely  than  it 
did  on  this  night  of  his  basest  treachery ! 
Never  did  the  silver  and  jewels  of  the 
altar  beam  more  joyously,  never  did  the 
saints  from  the  walls  look  down  upon 
him  more  softly,  never  did  the  image 
over  the  altar  seem  to  gaze  upon  him 
with  a sweeter,  blander  smile,  than  now 
that  his  mind  was  bent  on  sacrilege! 
“ Ah,  Judas  ! ” they  all  seemed  to  say 
to  him  in  words  of  soft  reproof,  “ wilt 
thou  betray  the  spouse  of  the  Son  of 
man  with  a kiss  ? ” He  could  not  bear 
the  sight,  and  he  cast  his  eyes  upon  the 
ground ; and  there  he  thought  he  saw 
his  infant  child,  as  she  lay  seven  years 
before  on  the  steps  before  him,  slumber- 
ing once  more  the  sleep  of  health,  and 
himself  kneeling  in  quiet  gratitude  be- 
side her.  Yes,  everything  around  him 
looked  to  him  now  just  as  it  did  then — 
all  except  his  own  breast  ; alas  ! how 
changed  was  that  ! He  flung  his  vision, 
by  a forcible  effort,  from  his  imagina- 


Its  Extinction . 


59 


tion,  and  raised  his  eyes,  and  in  doing  so 
encountered  the  steady  gaze  of  the  lamp, 
which  shed  all  this  beauty  and  myste- 
rious charm  on  every  object.  What  the 
eye  of  a man — “ the  light  of  his  body  ” 

■ — is  to  his  other  features,  even  that  did 
the  pure  solitary  flame  of  the  sanctuary’s 
lamp  appear  to  Pierrot’s  mind  : it  was  ' 
His  eye,  through  which  it  looked  keenly, 
yet  mildly,  upon  him,  as  if  to  see 
whether  or  no  he  would  have  heart  to 
do  his  wicked  deed.  Whatever  spell 
there  is  in  the  human  eye  to  arrest  the 
murderer’s  stroke  or  the  savage  beast’s 
assault,  that  same  power  did  this  eye  of 
the  sanctuary  exercise  over  his  soul  ; it 
charmed  and  fixed  him  immovable  to 
the  spot  ; not  all  the  promises  or  threats 
of  earth  would  have  influenced  him  to 
attempt  a crime,  so  long  as  it  beamed 
upon  him.  Nay,  to  his  sight,  it  was  a 
superhuman  intelligence  that  darted 
from  it  : they  were  rays  that  penetrated 
into  his  bosom  and  pried  into  his  heart 
that  came  towards  him  from  it  ; they 
had  a voice  that  spoke,  they  had  a point 


60 


The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

that  pierced,  though  tenderly.  How- 
ever the  beams  might  play  around  ob- 
jects beyond  and  around  and  linger  on 
their  way,  to  him  they  came  direct  and 
rigid  and  swift  as  arrows  from  a bow, 
cutting  through  the  darkness  between, 
and  not  enlightening  it,  but  leaving  it 
darkness  still.  Yes,  it  seemed  to  him 
as  an  angel’s  gaze  ; the  look  of  the 
heavenly  watchman  deputed  to  keep 
ward,  and  pay  homage  there,  during 
the  silent  hours  of  night  ; the  guard- 
ian of  the  sacred  treasure,  but  whose 
power  was  only  to  milden,  to  soften,  but 
not  to  strike  or  to  destroy.  And  even 
thus  did  that  light  more  subdue  him 
and  make  him  a coward.  Sooner  would 
he  have  faced,  it  seemed  to  him,  a ser- 
aph brandishing  a sword  of  fire,  or  an- 
gels with  scourges  in  their  hands,  than 
this  noiseless  and  harmless  protector  of 
the  sanctuary  and  its  treasures.  Is  not 
grace  about  to  triumph  in  him  ? 

This  succession  of  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings in  Pierrot’s  mind  occupied  in  real- 
ity but  a few  moments  ; but  these  were 


Its  Extinction . 


61 


quite  enough  to  tire  the  patience  of  his 
companion,  who,  though  clearly  over- 
awed, had  not  the  same  associations  to 
work,  nor  the  same  heart  to  be  worked 
on,  as  Pierrot.  He  soon  broke  in  on  the 
reverie  which  held  him  entranced,  and 
shaking  him  by  the  arm,  said  in  a whis- 
per— yes,  the  ruffian  durst  not  speak, 
in  that  light,  in  a higher  tone  : 

%4  Come,  come,  comrade,  we  are  losing 
time,  let  us  begin.” 

44  I cannot,”  said  Pierrot,  in  the  same 
voice,  44  I dare  not.” 

“ Nonsense  !”  gruffly  urged  the  rob- 
ber ; 44  are  you  a child?  Remember 
your  promise.  4 To  work,  then,  at 
once.’  ” 

“ I will  not,”  replied  his  poor  victim. 
44  Not  for  the  world,  will  I rob  her  who 
here  gave  me  back  my  daughter,  on  a 
night  so  like  this.” 

44  And  do  you  wish  to  murder  her  on 
such  a night  too  ? ” growled  the  savage, 
with  set  teeth  and  the  look  of  a tiger. 
44  If  3^ou  will  not  remember  your  promise, 
remember  my  threat.  Ten  minutes  will 


62 


The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary. 

take  us  to  your  house,  and  five  more  will 
finish  our  work  there.  Refuse,  and  in 
a quarter  of  an  hour  you  will  be  a child- 
less widower.” 

Pierrot’s  heart  quailed,  his  heart 
shuddered  and  quivered  at  the  thought. 
The  moment  of  grace  was  over  ; the  de- 
mon had  again  triumphed,  and  in  the 
recklessness  of  despair,  he  exclaimed: 

“ Be  it  so,  then  ; let  me  accomplish 
my  doom ! To  work  ; but  not  by  this 
light:  no,  grant  me  this  at  least — not 
by  this  light.” 

“ Why  not  ? ” asked  the  other.  “ h 
it  not  enough  ? ” 

“Never  mind,”  said  Pierrot;  “but 
not  by  this  light.  Let  me  be  in  total 
darkness,  if  you  please,  that  would  be 
better.  But  rather  uncover  your  dark 
lantern,  that  will  be  best.”  And  as  he 
spoke  he  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand, 
that  he  might  not  see  the  lamp. 

The  robber,  muttering  something  to 
the  effect  that  he  too  did  not  like  that 
light  much,  uncovered  his  lantern.  Its 
lurid  red  gleam  streaming  through  the 


Its  Extinction . 


63 


coarse  smoked  glass  appeared  at  once  to 
contaminate  the  chaste  light  that  before 
illuminated  the  holy  place.  It  was  like 
a stream  of  blood  defiling,  on  a sudden, 
a crystal  fountain ; or  the  glare  of  a 
burning  cottage  breaking  into  the  sum- 
mer moonlight.  Yet  it  was  comforting 
to  Pierrot,  and  seemed  to  dispel  his 
fears.  His  companion  saw  it,  and 
cheered  him  on,  saying : 

“ Come  on,  we  must  make  up  for  lost 
time.  I see  you  do  not  like  that  lamp. 
Ha ! ha  ! we  will  get  rid  of  it  at  once. 
It  is  silver,  I have  heard  you  say;  so 
pull  it  down,  and  untie  it,  while  I take 
down  the  candlesticks  from  the  altar.” 

Pierrot  had  just  the  same  thought. 
So  with  desperate  resolution,  and  still 
shrouding  his  eyes,  he  advanced  to  the 
lamp,  pulled  it  violently  down,  and, 
with  one  powerful  breath,  extinguished 
it. 

In  the  same  instant,  a shriek  rent  his 
ears,  so  sudden,  so  sharp,  and  so  full  of 
agony,  that  it  did  not  seem  to  proceed 
from  human  utterance,  but  to  come  from 


64 


The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

some  being  of  another  world.  Whether 
it  came  from  afar  or  from  near,  from  the 
sky  above  or  from  the  ground  below,  or 
from  the  country  around,  neither  he  nor 
his  companion  could  tell.  For  it  was 
instantaneous,  and  was  neither  prolonged 
nor  repeated.  But  so  immediately  did 
it  follow,  or  rather,  accompany  the  ex- 
tinction of  the  lamp,  that  both  Pierrot 
and  his  companion  naturally  connected 
the  two  occurrences  together,  as  cause 
and  effect. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


ITS  REKINDLING. 

‘ ‘ Accende  lumen  sensibus, 

Infunde  amorem  cordibus.” 

Restore  Thy  light  to  the  fading  sight, 

And  Thy  love  impart  to  the  fainting  heart.  * 

Hymn . 

“ Her  lamp  shall  not  he  put  out  in  the 
nights — Prov.  xxxi.  18. 

The  fearful  cry  which  we  described 
at  the  close  of  the  last  chapter  struck 
terror  into  the  breasts  of  the  sacrilegious 
robbers.  The  ruffian  leader  shook  with 
affright  from  head  to  foot,  his  teeth 
chattered,  and  the  lantern  fell  from  his 
trembling  hand,  and  was  extinguished. 
Both  he  and  Pierrot  rushed  to  the  door 
and  hurried  out.  There  they  found 
their  companion  equally  terrified  with 
themselves. 

5 


65 


66  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

“Did  you  hear  that?”  they  both 
exclaimed. 

u Hear  it?”  said  he,  with  a trem- 
bling voice.  “ Aye,  and  do  not  wish, 
nor  intend,  ever  to  hear  it  again.  Let 
us  be  gone ; I will  have  nothing  more 
to  do  with  robbing  churches.  I never 
liked  the  job  much  from  the  begin- 
ning.” 

Both  the  robbers  were  now  thoroughly 
alarmed,  and  fled  as  quickly  as  possible 
towards  their  homes,  leaving  Pierrot  to 
shift  for  himself.  His  first  impulse 
should  have  been  to  give  thanks  to  God 
for  his  own  escape  from  the  actual  com- 
mission of  a dreadful  crime,  and  for 
that  of  his  wife  and  daughter  from  the 
vengeance  of  his  brutal  comrades.  But 
fear,  as  yet,  froze  up  every  other  and 
every  better  feeling,  and  he  only  thought 
of  running  away  from  the  scene  of  his 
wickedness  and  finding  shelter  from  the 
terrible  cry  which  yet  rung  in  his  im- 
agination. Instinctively  he  took  the 
road  towards  home  and  hurried  along  it 
in  the  dark  as  quickly  as  his  trembling 


Its  Rekindling . 


67 


knees  would  allow  him.  His  remorse 
gave  him  no  peace,  and  he  fancied  him- 
self pursued  ; every  howl  of  the  wind  in 
the  deep  ravine  sounded  to  him  as  the 
voice  of  an  angry  multitude  in  chase  of 
him,  every  waving  branch  and  quiver- 
ing bough  looked  to  him  as  a sword  or 
staff  shaken  over  his  head.  Yet  still,  he 
durst  not  look  behind  him,  still  he  halted 
not ; but  on,  on,  he  ran  in  breathless 
haste. 

He  came  to  the  place  we  have  be- 
fore described,  where  a gentle  slope 
led  up  from  the  wider  road  to  the 
narrow  path  skirting  the  precipice. 
He  ran  up  it  in  breathless  haste  ; the 
gray  twilight  was  just  beginning  to 
appear,  when  by  it  he  saw,  standing 
on  the  narrow  path  before  him,  a wild- 
looking figure,  whose  hair  and  gar- 
ments streamed  to  the  wind,  immov- 
able as  the  rock  that  overhung  it.  He 
paused  and  staggered.  The  words  of 
Scripture  which  had  once  terrified  him 
in  an  eloquent  preacher’s  mouth  came  to 
his  thoughts  : “ Fiat  via  illorum  tenebrae 


68  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

et  lubricum,  et  angelus  Domini  coarc- 
tans  eos.”  * He  thought  of  Balaam 
stopped  by  an  avenging  angel  in  the 
narrow  path.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if 
the  same  judgment  had  overtaken  him 
in  the  most  perilous  pass.  And  yet  the 
terror  of  what  he  had  left  behind  him 
urged  him  on,  and  he  determined,  at  all 
risks,  to  face  any  danger  before  him,  so 
that  he  might  reach  his  home.  He 
rushed  forward  at  once  to  the  object  of 
his  terror,  but  still  it  moved  not ; he 
stood  close  to  it,  and  it  stirred  not.  He 
gazed  upon  it  with  mingled  terror  and 
anxiety — it  was  his  wife  ! 

There  she  stood,  as  if  bereft  of  sense 
and  speech,  on  the  very  brink  of  the 
precipice,  looking  intently  down  into  its 
depth.  She  saw  him  not,  she  heeded 
him  not ; and  even  when  he  had  grasped 
her  arm  and  addressed  her  by  her  name, 
and  told  her  who  he  was,  she  started  not, 
and  turned  not  towards  him,  but  still 

* “ May  their  way  be  dark  and  slippery,  and 
an  angel  of  God  straightening  them.” — Ps. 
xxxiv. 


Its  Rekindling . 69 

kept  her  eyes  fixed  in  the  same  direc- 
tion. 

“ Annette  ! ” he  exclaimed,  almost 
distracted  with  this  new  sorrow,  “what 
are  you  looking  at?  what  is  there  be- 
low there,  that  so  rivets  your  sight  and 
mind  ? ” 

She  replied  not,  but  only  pointed  at  a 
white  object  below. 

“ What  is  that  ? ” he  again  asked  ; 
“ a white  stone  ? some  sheep  in  the  val- 
ley?” 

“ Yes,”  she  replied,  and  they  were 
her  first  words  ; “ our  own  lamb — 
Marie.” 

“How?”  cried  out  the  wretched 
man  ; “ what  is  »he  doing  there  ? ” 

At  these  words  her  sense  seemed  to 
return  to  the  unhappy  mother,  and, 
turning  round  and  calmly  confronting 
her  husband,  she  said  to  him  : 

“ Pierrot,  you  have  no  doubt  forgot- 
ten that  this  night  is  the  seventh  anni- 
versary of  our  dear  child’s  miraculous 
recovery.  This  morning  we  were  go- 
ing to  our  sanctuary  to  pray  awhile  in 


70  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

silence  by  the  dear  light  of  its  lamp,  be- 
fore she  put  off  her  white  robes.  She 
was  tripping  lightly  and  securely  be- 
fore me  when  suddenly  we  lost  sight 
of  the  light  from  the  lamp ; and  she, 
naturally  thinking  (as  I should  have 
done  had  I been  first)  that  it  was  time 
to  turn,  did  so,  and  fell  over  the  preci- 
pice. I gave  but  one  shriek,  and  fell 
down  senseless.” 

Pierrot  felt  as  if  a sword  was  driven 
through  his  heart.  In  a tone  of  ag- 
ony he  exclaimed  : “ I have , then, 
this  night  murdered  my  child  ! it  was  I 
that  put  out  the  lamp  ! ” and  before  his 
wife  could  stop  him  he  had  flung  him- 
self over  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  and 
seizing  hold  of  the  weak  shrubs  which 
grew  from  its  clefts,  he  let  himself  down 
from  crag  to  crag  by  a path  which  the 
most  daring  hunter  would  not  have 
ventured  to  try.  Fragments  of  rock 
crumbled  under  his  feet  and  rolled  down 
with  a terrible  roar,  the  bushes  crackled 
and  crashed  as  he  tore  through  them, 
regardless  of  bruise  or  tear,  and  in  a 


Its  Rekindling.  71 

few  minutes  he  stood  or  rather  knelt  by 
the  object  at  which  his  wife  had  pointed. 

It  was  the  bodj^of  his  daughter,  lying 
placid,  as  if  asleep,  in  a soft  brake. 
Not  a limb  was  broken,  not  a feature 
discomposed,  not  a scratch  or  rent  in- 
flicted on  her  or  her  garments  ; the  very 
garland  which  she  had  borne  as  an  offer- 
ing was  still  in  her  hand,  and  her  white 
cloak  was  gracefully  gathered  around 
her.  The  body  of  St.  Catharine,  carried 
by  angels  to  mount  Sinai,  could  not  have 
been  more  gently  laid  down  by  their 
hands.  For  so  light  and  brisk  had  been 
her  step  that  she  did  not  stumble  or 
slip  over  the  perilous  edge,  but  flew 
over  clear  of  its  surface  ; and  life  must 
have  been  extinct  without  pain  long  be- 
fore she  reached  the  ground  below. 

Pierrot  knelt  by  her  side  for  some 
time  in  deep  anguish,  but  in  earnest 
prayer ; then  taking  her  in  his  arms  as 
reverently  as  he  would  have  handled  a 
sacred  relic,  proceeded  along  the  valley 
till  he  came  to  the  same  slope  which  he 
had  ascended  with  very  different  feel- 


72  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary, 

ings  a few  moments  before,  and  re- 
turned along  the  path  to  the  place  where 
he  had  left  his  wife.  He  found  her  still 
riveted,  as  if  entranced,  to  the  spot. 
When  he  brought  his  precious  burden 
near  her,  she  shed  not  a tear,  she  gave 
not  way  to  a single  expression  of  wo- 
manly grief  ; her  mind  seemed  absorbed 
in  the  consideration  of  what  had  occurred, 
which  seemed  to  her  something  more 
mysterious  than  a mere  accident  or  a 
human  event. 

She  pressed  her  lips  in  deep  devotion 
on  the  pale,  but  yet  warm,  brow  of  her 
child,  and  addressed  her  husband  in 
these  words  : 

“ Pierrot  the  words  which  you  just 
now  spoke  are  buried  forever  in  the 
faithful  bosom  of  your  wife.  But  they 
have  recalled  to  my  mind  the  words  of 
your  prayer  just  seven  years  ago,  when 
you  begged  for  your  child’s  life,  until 
some  sacrilegious  hand  extinguished 
the  lamp  before  the  altar.  Do  you  re- 
member?  ” Pierrot’s  frame  quivered  as 
he  made  a sign  of  assent*  She  contim 


Its  Rekindling . 


73 


ued  : “ Then,  your  prayer  was  heard  to 
the  letter  ; and  you  have  no  right  to 
complain. 

“ But  she,  too,  hath  prayed  long  and 
earnestly  for  two  favors,  and  one  at 
least  has  been  granted.  She  had  en- 
treated not  to  be  permitted  to  put  off 
the  white  garments  which  consecrated 
her  to  God  and  His  blessed  Mother, 
but  to  be  laid  in  them  on  her  bier.  I 
thought  but  a few  hours  ago  that  there 
was  no  danger  of  this  being  granted. 
But  in  the  hearing  of  your  prayer, 
hers  has  received  its  boon.  She  made 
another,  too,  but  I know  not  yet  its 
result.” 

“ What  was  it  ? ” eagerly  asked  Pier- 
rot. She  replied : 

“ She  offered  up  the  life  which  she 
prized  so  little  as  a sacrifice  to  obtain 
your  return  to  grace  and  virtue.” 

“ Then  she  has  been  heard,”  answered, 
with  broken  sobs,  the  unhappy  Pierrot. 

He  had  scarcely  uttered  these  words, 
when  a bright  light  darted  to  the  eyes 
of  both,  as  if  a brilliant  star  had  on  a 


74  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

sudden  arisen.  They  looked  around  in 
amazement  ; it  was  the  light  of  the 
lamp  rekindled  in  the  sanctuary,  and 
again  shining  as  usual  on  that  narrow 
and  slippery  path.  Both  hailed  the 
omen,  or  rather  the  emblem  and  token 
of  returning  grace. 

The  good  priest  had  been  awakened 
by  the  cry  that  had  startled  the  robbers, 
and  had  arisen  to  ascertain  its  cause. 
He  went  first  to  his  chapel,  and,  to  his 
astonishment,  found  it  dark.  It  was 
some  time  before  he  procured  a light, 
and  he  had  in  that  moment  relighted 
the  lamp.  On  finding  it  drawn  down, 
and  still  more  on  perceiving  that  the 
door  was  open,  and  discovering  the  lan- 
tern on  the  ground,  he  saw  at  once  that 
he  had  had  a narrow  escape  from  sacri- 
lege. How  this  had  been  prevented  he 
could  not  conceive,  and  he  remained 
examining  every  place,  and  pondering 
on  the  strange  circumstances,  when  he 
perceived  footsteps  approaching.  His 
alarm  was  changed  into  grief,  when  he 
saw  that  it  was  Pierrot  and  his  wife, 


Its  Rekindling . 


7 5 


the  former  bearing  in  his  arms  the  dead 
body  of  his  daughter. 

It  was  long  before  his  sympathizing 
sorrow  allowed  him  to  listen  to  the 
mother’s  tale  of  affliction.  She  told  it 
at  last,  without  mentioning  her  hus- 
band’s name,  except  where  she  described 
him  as  madly  rushing  down  the  preci- 
pice to  recover  his  child.  But  the  good 
old  man  now  saw  his  own  and  a no  less 
beautiful  solution  of  the  mysteries  of 
that  night  than  that  of  the  parents,  as 
he  said  : 

“ Now  I understand  it  all.  Not  only 
has  her  wish  been  gratified,  of  never 
returning  to  a worldly  garb,  but  she  has 
proved  the  guardian  and  protecting 
spirit  of  this  her  favorite  sanctuary, 
which  she  so  much  adorned.  But  for 
that  fatal  accident  to  her  and  the  pang 
it  caused  her  mother,  the  robbers,  who- 
ever they  were,  would  have  accom- 
plished their  work.  For,  no  doubt,  the 
cry  which  awoke  me  scared  them.  By 
her  death  she  has  saved  this  holy  place 
from  pillage.  She  was  herself  as  a 


76  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

second  lamp  of  the  sanctuary ; how 
natural  that  the  putting  out  of  one 
should  cause  the  extinction  of  the 
other.” 

Their  plans  were  soon  arranged.  A 
bier  was  placed  in  the  middle  of  the 
church,  on  the  very  spot  where  she 
loved  to  kneel,  and  covered  with  a black 
velvet  pall.  Upon  it,  facing  the  altar, 
the  corpse  was  placed  in  its  snow-white, 
spotless  dress,  the  hands,  with  her  cruci- 
fix placed  between  them  and  her  beads 
twined  around  them,  were  joined  on  the 
breast ; her  long  silken  tresses  floated 
on  her  shoulders,  and  the  wreath  which 
she  herself  had  twined  was  placed  upon 
her  head. 

On  either  side  knelt  one  of  her  now 
broken-hearted  parents ; but  Pierrot 
soon  passed  to  the  knees  of  the  venera- 
ble pastor,  where  he  poured  forth  with 
deep  contrition  and  burning  tears  the 
history  of  his  past  crimes,  and  ex- 
changed the  stinging  worm  of  a remorse- 
ful conscience  for  the  tender  consolation 
of  loving  repentance  and  assurance  of 


Its  Rekindling . 77 

pardon  by  the  absolution  of  Christ’s  min- 
ister. 

He  was  again  at  his  former  post,  kneel- 
ing by  the  body  of  his  child.  But  now 
her  spirit  seemed  to  him  to  hover  in  the 
soft  radiance  above  him,  and  to  smile 
upon  him  in  the  rays  of  the  sacred  lamp. 
He  could  imagine  it  mingling  with  an- 
gelic. choirs  descending  to  rejoice  over 
the  sinner  brought  to  repentance,  and 
flitting  around  him  hand  in  hand  with 
that  guardian  spirit  who  had  never 
abandoned  him  in  all  his  wanderings. 
And  as  he  looked,  to  assure  himself  of 
the  reality  of  his  state,  to  the  bier  be- 
side him,  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  a new 
smile  played  upon  her  features,  and  a 
tinge  of  life  had  returned  to  her  coun- 
tenance. 

Morning  was  come,  and  the  well- 
known  death-bell  sounded  from  the  lit- 
tle turret  of  the  chapel.  The  neighbors 
started  at  its  voice,  for  they  had  heard 
of  no  illness  near  them,  and  crowded  in 
kind  anxiety  to  the  sanctuary.  They 
faltered,  as  they  entered,  in  astonishment 


78  The  Lamp  of  the  Sanctuary . 

and  sorrow.  The  tale  was  soon  whis- 
pered from  one  to  another ; the  flight 
of  those  naturally  suspected  of  the  at- 
tempted sacrilege  confirmed  all  their 
conjectures,  while  Pierrot’s  being  with 
his  wife  and  daughter  screened  him 
from  suspicion. 

Many  tears  of  unaffected  sorrow 
graced  that  funeral,  but  shed  more  in 
sympathy  for  the  survivors  than  from 
grief  over  her  whom  all  now  envied. 
Mothers  held  up  their  little  ones  to  look 
upon  that  corpse  ; and  instead  of  shrink- 
ing from  it  in  terror,  they  stretched  out 
their  arms  to  ask  to  embrace  it. 

There  was  long,  in  the  little  cemetery 
of  Mont-Marie,  a grave  greener  than  all 
the  rest,  and  decked  each  day  by  chil- 
dren’s hands  with  the  fairest  flowers  : 
and  if  you  had  asked  any  of  the  busy 
little  laborers  whose  it  was,  he  would 
have  told  you  with  wondering  eyes  that 
it  was  Marie's — as  if  no  one  else  had 
ever  been  called  there  by  that  name. 

After  some  years  there  were  two 
other  graves  near  the  favorite  spot ; 


Its  Rekindling. 


79 


they  were  those  of  her  parents,  honored 
by  all  for  virtue  and  venerable  old  age. 
Pierrot  left  it  to  be  told  after  his  death 
how  his  virtue  and  his  happiness,  his 
crimes,  his  punishment,  his  repentance, 
and  his  forgiveness,  had  been  wonder- 
fully connected  with  the  Lamp  of  the 
Sanctuary. 


PRINTED  BY  BENZIGER  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK: 


72371 


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